The Oregon coast

After three months of solid drinking I had a hangover coming, and by God I got one that overcast morning in Oregon.  The Skeptic and I struggled out to breakfast and back, then we tossed our stuff into Maggie and made for the coast.

One of the great folks we had met the night before had suggested we head to the Oregon coast to see the Haystack.  I begged the Skeptic to drive out so I could sleep in the back of the car.  I regret this; I missed one of the best drives of the trip, through forest and along rivers.

Haystack Rock is the third biggest monolith in the world.

The coast itself was worth seeing; not the bright sunshine and white-sands sort, but the clouds and white-caps.  A foreboding sea.  The best kind.  There was also some kind of giant sand hill but if you've been to Fraser Island it wasn't all that impressive.

This is what happens when you order onion rings.

We ate at the Pelican (this has very much become the brewery tour of the West Coast), and hit the road again, making for Rice Hill.  Rice Hill is about 45 miles south of Eugene.  There is nothing in Rice Hill.